


Meaner Than My Demons

by sapphicqueens



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Redemption, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:22:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21514738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicqueens/pseuds/sapphicqueens
Summary: One year after the Second Wizarding War and Hogwarts is finally back to its former glory. A lot has changed the past year and the Golden Trio is still trying to recover from their losses and think they will get a new beginning when they return for their final year at Hogwarts. When they get there, they are reminded that nothing will ever be the same. The whole Wizarding world has gone through major changes, including how to deal with criminals; the notorious Bellatrix Black is to be their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.I suck at summaries, so sorry!
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Hermione Granger/Bellatrix Black Lestrange
Comments: 89
Kudos: 374





	1. Chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> Hellu! I'm back with a brand new story. Brand new fandom. Well not really new but it's my frist time writing for it. 
> 
> Anyways, Bellatrix never died. Hermione, Ron and Harry wants to finish their education. I'm a sucker for teacher/student and I'm also a sucker for a redemption story. I'm winging some stuff, looking up some stuff. Correct med if I'm wrong about some things. I can't promise I'll update frequently, but I'll try. I have a lot of inspiration now during the dark winter months so let's hope I'll stick by it and get this story up and running. Please, enjoy and leave a comment!

The Great Hall was silent enough to let a needle create an echo, if one had fallen on the stone floor. People looked at Professor McGonagall, Hogwarts’ new Headmistress with disbelief and shock on their faces.

Hermione could not for the life of her understand what the professor had just said, she could not process her words. It was as if the words could not enter her brain and she wanted to laugh at them, convinced that this was just some sick joke. That Minerva McGonagall had lost her mind in the rubble that was left of the school after the war was over and had not found it during the rebuilding of the great castle. _Surely she must be joking with us–_

A cackling laughter tore through the silence like a knife cutting through thick butter. The source of the cackle sat by the teachers’ table. No one seemed to have noticed the dark figure hiding beside McGonagall’s seat. _Had she been there when they arrived?_

”Thank you for the kind and warm welcome my dear _pupils,”_ the dark haired woman’s voice screeched in juvenile joy at the apparent disbelief the students showed. ”I’m sure we’ll share wonderful moments together filled with knowledge.”

Mumbles stirred from the crowd. A young girl started crying and someone shouted that they wanted to leave the school immediately, that whatever was going on was crazy and intolerable. Hermione could not but agree.

”Silence,” McGonagall used her wand to let her voice thunder through the murmurs, making the students shift in their seat as the buzz ceased. 

The Headmistress gazed over the disgruntled crowd, ”I know this may come as a shock to all of you. I assure you; I had no power in this and if I had any choice, this is not how I wanted this to end. However, the Ministry of Magic have ordered the school to set an example, to integrate those who are lost back into society of the good.”

Hermione glanced at a pale Harry, who stared at the table with a clenched jawline and gripping his arms to the point where his knuckles whitened. He was furious. Ron and Ginny both looked shocked, Neville had the face of someone who had lost everything. The atmosphere had gone from anticipation and joy to starting a new school year, to distrust and anger. The whole room, every House table, stared at the Headmistress hesitantly.

Hermione dared to look at the dark witch that would be their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. _Professor Bellatrix Black Lestrange…What world have I come to?_ Hermione thought that this must be some kind of Twilight Zone, a bad dream, some altered reality she had woken up to. Alas, that was not the case. She met the dark spiteful gaze of the other woman. Thick black curls hung around the pale face and the grin she wore sent cold shivers through her spine.

”Madam Black is to be re-instated into society, prove herself worthy of redemption. That even the darkest witch or wizard can show remorse and live a normal life–” McGonagall was interrupted by a snort, a gleeful smile spreading across the dark witch’s lips. The Headmistress ignored her and continued talking, ”and live among us an equal. She is to be supervised by me, and four Aurors will keep a protective eye on her and you, as I wish for neither of you, _including Madame Black_ , to be harmed. She will not be unsupervised at any time of the day or night until she has proven herself stable enough to not cause any of you harm. Her wand will only be given to her by one of the Aurors if there is need for demonstration during class, so please walk these corridors assured that Madam Black will never be able to use magic to harm you. 

”It’s been a year since the war ended, since Voldemort’s rein ended. The war cost us many lives, many witches and wizards that shall never be forgotten. They will forever be kept inside our hearts and minds; their sacrifices will be honoured until we breathe our last breath on this planet. Let this war be a reminder of the importance of an open mind, of our equality. That life, in every form, has rights. Let this war also be a reminder of the importance of forgiveness and inclusion. Every living being has the right to roam the Earth free of harm and violence.”

Hermione knew the last sentence was directed at Bellatrix, who rolled her eyes defiantly. However, there was a lot of truth in what Professor McGonagall spoke. They should be forgiving. A prison such as Azkaban was not a humane way of dealing with criminals, and she was happy the old ways of dealing with prisoners had ended. The dementors had been annihilated, replaced by real human prison guards. Although Hermione agreed on most of the reformations that had been done in the Wizarding world during the last year, she had yet to understand this one. That one of the most vicious people she had ever met, that still sent trembles of fear through her veins, were free to walk the grounds of this school.

Bellatrix Black had mutilated Hermione, humiliated her, tortured her. She would never be free of the traumatic memories still haunting her that Bellatrix had caused her. She had believed her last year at Hogwarts would be the start of her recovery, the place where she would be able to cope with the nightmares, the anxiety and fear that still had her gasping for air through tears and gripping the sheets at night.

It had taken a year for the school to be rebuilt into its former glory. A year of Hermione, Harry and Ron starting to deal with the losses, burying friends and drying each other’s tears. They had lived at the Burrow, helping the Weasleys to rebuild their house back into a home. Both Harry and Ron had been unsure if they wanted to return to Hogwarts, their hearts heavy from the memories they had gathered throughout the years of Hogwarts. The impact of the events had finally dawned upon them, everything had crashed down upon them as if someone had kicked them in the guts.

Sometimes they had fallen into each other’s arms; Ron and Hermione’s budding love had ended somewhere around Christmas and all they searched for was comfort to get through the nights together. Now they were friends, the heated feelings that once had blossomed between them gone and replaced by a gentle warmth of friendliness. Ginny and Harry however, seemed to have found each other.

Now, one of the main sources of her insomnia and trauma would stand before her as a teacher.

The Headmistress still spoke, informing the students of other changes that had been made since the war, new routines and new safety measures that had been applied to the school system.

Harry still stared down at his plate, not even picking at the food that appeared in front of him during dinner. He was still furious, haunted by the memory of his godfather’s death among many others that the dark woman was responsible for.

”It’s unfair that she can sit there and enjoy herself this dinner while her cousin rots in his grave because of her…” Ron mutters as he downs another glass of butterbeer. 

”I wonder how the Ministry could do this, could send her here and not to some Department where she can’t harm anyone, let alone harm a child!?” Ginny exclaimed in despair. Neville nodded in agreement. It was very strange that a school full of young helpless children would be put at risk, what if someone got in the way of her relentless rage? The woman was bloody insane!

”I don’t understand… I want her gone! I don’t care if it’s not humane to let someone be exposed at the hand of a Dementor, I want her dead.”

”We all do Neville,” Ron said. Hermione did not have anything to say. Something in her stomach told her that this would end badly. Someone would get hurt.

She had somewhere along the conversation put her hand on her arm, covering what was hidden underneath her Hogwarts robes. Even underneath all the woolly fabrics she could feel the uneven skin against her fingers as if her arm had been uncovered. She could still feel the steel in her flesh, carving uneven letters into her skin, into her soul. Her marked skin was stinging as if the scars were still bleeding.

Hermione shivered, a feeling of being watched washed over her and she turned around to get caught in the intense gaze of none other than Bellatrix Black. Her eyes were locked with the dark witch’s and she was unable to look away, determined to not look away and let the fear take control.

Bellatrix’s disgusted snarl turned into a maleficent grin. Hermione could not but succumb to the crippling fear as the other woman mouthed one simple word that made Hermione clench her hand over her scars and fear turned her blood to ice.

_”Mudblood.”_


	2. Chapter two

Hermione had, for most of the year, been struggling with a feeling of emptiness. Every day had she woken up with a void in her chest, except for a dull beating of her heart that seemed to press against her ribcage, wanting to escape. The only time she truly felt something was during her nightmares, when she would wake up in a cold sweat, panting and having her blood rush through icy veins as she tried to shake the uneasy feeling off. Her dreams were usually about her being stuck, trying to run even though her legs were numb. Sometimes she was on the floor underneath a dark hooded figure that carved images of snakes into her flesh. This week the dark figure had been replaced with its rightful face; her vision was clouded by black curls and sinister eyes. In other dreams she was running through corridors that never seemed to end, passing friends and family that all seemed to have forgotten about her or did not see her run, or ignored her cries for help.

The worst of nightmares were the one she woke up, unable to move her limbs, watching pitch black figures crawling from dark corners. Their gaze was always filled with untamed rage and blood lust, swallowing all the light that was left in her room and her heart. Those were the ones that left her questioning the meaning of it all. 

Many mornings had she found herself lying next to Ron and she did not even have the capacity to feel ashamed even as she knew she had used his devotion to her as means to escape her inner demons. He had understood, looking away from her the next morning as a beat-up puppy with unspoken words in his eyes. He continued letting her into his space despite the cold shoulder she would give him. Hermione was sure he needed her too. She had felt nothing as she had sneaked out of his room and back to her bed before the sun rose and she could get an hour or two of silence and rest. She still felt nothing.

She was not stupid; she was aware that she was probably struggling with a serious case of post-traumatic stress. It would not be strange at all considering everything she had been through and all the damaged that had been inflicted upon her, her friends and family and the damaged she had caused others. Even though Death Eaters might deserve everything they get, that still did not justify using several Unforgivable curses and see human bodies writhe in pain before her. She just did not seem to care at all that her mind was foggy with depression. Deep within, she _knew_ she deserved it.

The first week of school had passed by as if the war had never happened, everything seemed to be back to normal. Hermione had managed to get through the day feeling slightly better about having old routines back in her life. She still visited the library every afternoon to read all the new books and mourned all the tomes lost in the battle. She kept herself busy long into the night by reading and writing, always five steps ahead of her classmates. The evenings spent in the Gryffindor common room were ones filled with bittersweet emotions since the old gang would reminisce about the good old times.

On Friday morning, Hermione woke up with a bad taste in her mouth and a sinking feeling in her stomach. She rolled over in her bed, dreading the coming day as Defence Against the Dark Arts was the first class of the day. Hermione and Ginny had convinced each other that it would go well, there would be Aurors there to keep the situation under control. Luna and Padma had attended the class earlier this week and said that despite it being Bellatrix, the class had been quite interesting. If anyone should be teaching them how to defend themselves, it should be one that was an expert on performing the dark arts. It still did not make them excuse the Ministry for putting the world’s most dangerous woman in a position as their teacher.

The corridors were of course filled with life. The usual turmoil would never cease to exist and while Hermione thought it annoying to constantly have her toes stepped on or stepping on some first-year student’s poor feet, she also enjoyed the chaos. She kept count on all the things that were the same. So far they outnumbered the changes.

”Why do we have to attend this subject? We bloody saved the school last year, should’ve gotten us Extra Super Outstanding scores already,” Ginny muttered bitterly through bites of toast. Hermione managed a smile and tried to dampen the growing feeling of dread that rumbled in her gut, making her feel very ill, which Ginny seemed to notice. She knew Hermione did not enjoy the changes the slightest, which made Hermione feel bad. _Why can’t I just move on like everybody else?_

”You look greener than that spinach you insist on putting on your sandwiches.”

Hermione gulped down her pumpkin juice, shook her head and stood up. She had barely touched her breakfast.

”We should go, let’s just get this over with.”

Ginny shrugged and slung her bag over her shoulder, grabbing Ron and Harry along the way. Hermione hurried out the Great Hall and towards the classroom, elbowing several students on her way and tried to get away from the claustrophobic hustle. Somehow, the high stone walls appeared to close in on her the closer she got to the classroom.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was not a required subject, but since Hermione, Ron, Harry and Ginny all wanted to apply for Auror training, they needed the credits. Hermione had doubted this choice since the big revelation on their new teacher. However, it seemed neither of them was done saving the world from dark witches and wizards.

The thought mused Hermione as the irony of it all hit her like a brick when she walked into the classroom and saw Bellatrix laying in her chair with boots on her desk. She was reading a book with a bored expression, unphased by the group of students already taking their seats. It seemed as if no one dared to be even a second late, afraid what might happen if they would get caught. 

At the sight of the dark witch, the knot in Hermione’s stomach grew bigger. Even with the Aurors standing along the walls with their wands visible to give the impression of being in control, she would still be on the edge. _This is ridiculous, there are armed guards here to protect us and I have fought too many battles in my life already, one wretched witch will not bring me down._

“Alright, alright,” Bellatrix sighed as she slammed the book shut and threw it on the desk with a loud thud as the school bell signalled the beginning of class, “let’s see what kind of rabble we have here.”

She scanned the room and as she noticed Harry, Ron and Hermione, her face twisted into one of disgust but quickly changed into a mocking grin. 

“Well, well, well… What do we have here!” she screeched and laughed joyfully as if she had been a child waking up on Christmas, “guess today won’t be as boring as the others.”

The Aurors stirred in their place, prepared to interfere if the need would arise. However, Hermione doubted that they would ever be fast enough if Bellatrix decided to jump on them. She just would not trust the system. 

“The _Golden Trio!_ What an honour! Do I bow perhaps?” Bellatrix curtsied, barely containing the laugh bubbling from her lips. “Or does the Boy Who Had to Live prefer kneeling?”

“Madam Black!” One of the Aurors, a tall blonde woman with a scarred face and a stern look had raised her voice. Bellatrix rolled her eyes as if she was a petulant child and turned to the black board.

“Anyway… So I know you know nothing of the Dark Arts. You are all just too stupid to have learn at least one valuable thing from the previous teachers. I bet even that joke of a wizard, Carrow, couldn’t teach you one valuable curse. Except for Crucio maybe–,” the blonde Auror cleared her throat as a warning– “Merlin, do you have an ounce of humour in that fair head of yours. Obviously I am not going to teach these pig heads any _real_ magic,” Bellatrix muttered and the Auror seemed to give up at making the woman use a more appropriate language.

“I have planned for us to use more practical methods, as I’ve heard some of your former teachers have done. More duelling, more counter curses and incantations that are useful in combat. I’m gonna teach you how to make people lose the ability to walk and move – _temporarily,_ calm down my dear personal Auror, don’t get your knickers in a twist _–_ how to dodge each flame, how to make people cry and crawl away from you in fear. Simple _Protegos_ won’t get you that far.”

Hermione noticed with the passion the dark woman spoke of this subject, how her eyes gleamed and how they had this faraway look when she spoke of things Hermione had barely imagined; how to detect the presence of curses in harmless-looking objects without even seeing it and how to curse other objects, how Dark magic seemed to be present everywhere whether we knew it or not, and the area of blood magic and voodoo, the trafficking of living beings and how it got off the radar.

It irked Hermione that Bellatrix could speak of these matters out of her own experiences, this deranged woman’s lust for fear and death, as if she lived and breathed for the Dark Arts and would not show any remorse in front of the people she had hurt the most. She probably regretted not causing more harm when she had the chance. 

“Perhaps some of these things belong to other subjects, but everything can be stained with Dark magic, therefore I find it important to get a wider perspective of it. Everything is not what it seems to be, nothing is either good or evil, black or white. Everything is grey.”

The scene before Hermione was surrealistic. In what world had she ever imagined to be taught about general ethics and morals in magic in a class such as Defence Against the Dark Arts by a notorious murderer that had killed several nears and dears of her classmates. _This is absurd,_ Hermione thought and stroked the scars on her arm, memories of Bellatrix using _Dark_ magic to keep her motionless on the floor underneath her as Bellatrix’s maniac laughter would fill her head along with the hurt. 

“Yes, miss Mudbl– _Granger,_ ” Bellatrix sneered, and Hermione had not even realised she had raised her hand. She could not believe the words that escaped her mouth before they were out.

“What kind of magic did you use when you had me locked on the floor and used my skin as parchment?” The question was asked as if Hermione was not scared at all, as if her heart had not jumped into her throat and clogged her airways with thundering beats. She was also surprised at the haughtiness and the impudence that had laced her voice, never had she been rude to a teacher. 

For a second Hermione thought the loud pulse in her ears could be heard from across the hall. It should have been since the whole class seemed to have lost the capability to utter any sounds. Even Bellatrix seemed to have gotten caught off guard by the question.

Hermione would not excuse herself. She was angry that this woman seemed to have gotten away with countless of crimes, crimes that should have sentenced her to prison for the rest of her pathetic excuse of a life. Hermione wanted justice, why couldn’t she get it? Why couldn’t some no-lifer, close to harmless Death Eater had become their new teacher instead, someone that didn’t have countless of lives on their bloody hands, if the Ministry now felt obliged to let criminals roam the grounds of Hogwarts.

The Gryffindor girl noticed the rage that clouded the dark witch’s eyes, it made her insides writhe in panic and yet, she had not felt this alive in weeks. Even though her whole body screamed at her to flee, her mind wanted the fight. Bellatrix glided across the room as if she was floating. The passion in Bellatrix’s voice that had once been there was replaced by loathing.

“Very good question indeed, girl, would you like me to demonstrate? Maybe this snarky little brat should come here and lay before her betters and we could take a little walk down memory lane, you’d like that wouldn’t you? Silly girl! You’d love to experience _all_ my secrets,” Bellatrix loomed over Hermione. The dark woman’s presence induced Hermione’s heart to race even faster and panic made her airways feel as if they were filled with tar. Though hatred pulsated in the heart that was left racing in her chest. 

Hermione thought Bellatrix had thrown an Imperius curse at her since she had to force herself not to meet the dark eyes of the black-haired woman. They were filled with hate.

“Lucky me you don’t have your wand,” Hermione said casually, remembering McGonagall’s promise of keeping Bellatrix wandless for most of the class. The indifference in her voice seemed to have shocked everyone in the room, including herself and the target of her words. If the circumstances would have been different, she would have earned herself a few silent chuckles from her classmates.

The snarl that had adorned the other woman turned into a wicked grin, “lucky me I don’t need a wand to re-enact our little get-together.”

Hermione swallowed as the fear managed to overcome her foolish courage, making her shut her mouth and bite her tongue from saying anything that would have her throat slit during the night. She would not be surprised if she was dragged with a fist in her hair from her restless sleep down the hallways and corridors to some hidden dungeons where Bellatrix would finish the work she had started all those months ago.

“That’s what I thought. Filthy blood is still filthy blood no matter how good you try to act,” Bellatrix said with a smug expression and returned to the black board with determination in her steps, scoffing at Hermione, “that bratty question cost Gryffindor ten points.”

Bellatrix said the last sentence knowing she had taken something more than just House pride from Hermione that wretched day in Malfoy Manor, something more precious. She knew she had turned it into something shameful.


	3. Chapter three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This ended up being a longer chapter than intended and I thought about making it into two chapters but then one of them would be boring I guess. I'm not sure if I like the way this chapter turned out. Anyway. This chapter is kind of damage control. One reader mentioned that the last chapters had implicated that Bellatrix raped Hermione, which as you'll see in a way she have done. But not like the rape we use to think. I don't want to put Hermione in that position. Anyway, please enjoy this chapter! Thank you for reading and commenting. ps: yes Neville and Luna are also doing another year at Hogwarts, I guess I just wanted more people to be a part of the story

September passed in a blur. Nature exploded in a magnitude of colours and Hermione’s nineteenth birthday arrived. She had not wanted anyone to make a big deal out of it, but her friends had other plans she would soon notice. Hermione and Ginny had placed themselves in the library on Saturday, both writing on another one of Bellatrix’s essays. It was a very easy one on blood magic and ancient Norse runes and they were done just in time for lunch.

The teacher had not given her such a hard time as she thought she would have, just more homework than was normal and a lot of degrading slurs pointed toward mainly the Gryffindors, but it was nothing Hermione could not handle. As long as Hermione stayed in the back of the classroom and avoided making eye contact or raising her hand, had she managed to keep her distance. _I’ll be left alone_ _as long as I return my homework in time and make them the best I can._ She did not need to prove herself in this class since she had planned to graduate with some sanity left.

Ginny sighed in content, rolling her parchment into perfect scrolls after making sure the ink had dried properly, “let’s go and grab some lunch, Hermione. I’m starving!”

Hermione nodded and collected all her work in her enchanted purse. When Hermione turned toward the Great Hall, where they usually would have their lunch, Ginny tssked and dragged Hermione towards the entrance.

“Where are we going?” Hermione asked in confusion as she followed Ginny away from the castle and towards what she suspected was Hagrid’s cabin.

“You’ll see!” Ginny had a mischievous smirk on her face and continued leading her away from the warm meal that was waiting for her in the castle. She groaned but knew it would be hopeless to question the redhead again, Ginny was stubborn, and Hermione could tell she had something planned for her.

The colours of nature had started to turn all shades of autumn; the yellow, orange and red trees appearing like firework among the tall emerald pinewoods spread atop the billowing mountains embracing the Great Lake, on which the sun reflected golden shimmering specks, mingled with the deep blue of the sky above. The grounds surrounding Hogwarts surely was beautiful all times of the year.

“I’m not sure what you’re doing but if this is a surprise party for me I’m gonna turn back,” Hermione mused as they got closer to the cabin, though she enjoyed the sun on her cheeks and the warmth it spread through her body despite the crisp air.

“Don’t be a party pooper,” Ginny called back as they approached the door. Hagrid’s cabin had been burned down during the war and the new one was bigger and a bit more comfortable for the huge man residing in it. “Please pretend you’re happy.”

With that, she opened the door and they stepped inside. She was not met with a booming “surprise” as she thought she would have been. Instead, a small cupcake-like object had been left on the table next to a letter. To be honest, Hermione was kind of confused and a bit hurt that this was the fuss Ginny had been all about.

“What’s going on?” she asked and grabbed the letter, ripping it open.

_Happy birthday, Hermione! Please follow the trails of Hagrid’s big feet._  
_Hugs,  
_ _You Know Who_

Hermione recognized the handwriting instantly and snorted at the dark humour Harry had grown to like. Ginny rolled her eyes at her boyfriend’s twisted joke and grabbed the cupcake.

“Don’t eat this. Hagrid made them and they will break not just your teeth, but also your jaw,” Ginny threw the cupcake in the bushes for the bugs to feast on as she stepped outside again.

Hermione shrugged and ran after Ginny. It was not hard to know what Harry meant, Hagrid’s big heavy feet sure had made a clear trail down the path into the Forbidden Forest, which was not very Forbidden or dangerous to them anymore.

The trail led them through the thick forest, the sun barely managing to reach through the branches, thus giving the woods a dim green glow. The girls walked for another five minutes until they reached a clearing.

“SURPRISE!” was heard as they entered the sunlit opening. Hermione could not help but smile despite rolling her eyes at her friends for refusing to take her wishes of having a peaceful birthday seriously.

Harry and Ron beamed at her from the small group – _her_ group – of people that had gathered in the middle of the clearing. Neville, Luna and Hagrid waved at her and even George had showed up. They all stood near a small makeshift bench surrounded by logs. The bench was covered in drinks, foods and snacks. A few wrapped presents were lying next to a jug of pumpkin juice.

“Wow! This is so sweet!” Hermione’s cheeks ached from the smile that reached from ear to ear, “thank you!” 

“Happy birthday, ‘Mione!” Ron said and wrapped his arms around her, and was followed closely by Harry, Ginny, Neville and Luna and George. Hagrid could almost fit all of them in his large arms. The warm feeling of the sun returned in full force as the love for her friends drowned out the anxious feelings she usually wore inside.

They sat down to enjoy the feast. Ginny had bought some pastries from a bakery in Hogsmeade and Luna had been in touch with the house elves, having them prepare sandwiches and small pies. Ron had asked his mum to send them homemade sweets, which was of course accompanied by a pair of mittens in a deep scarlet red as a birthday gift to Hermione.

Harry had given her a book on useful enchantments, _Spells to Make Your Life Easier_. Ron gave her a messy wrapped present containing a special kind of ink that was both water and mucusproof and erasable. From George, she received a new board game, which they all played after gorging down on all the food. Hagrid gave her a handbook on how to care for Magical Marine creatures and from Ginny she received a quill of a beautiful ebony black feather, fallen from a Hippogriff in Eastern China. Apparently, it worked well with the ink from Ron. Luna had grown and dried some very useful and rare plants for potion making and Neville gave her a gift card to Flourish & Blotts. Hermione thanked them all for her fine gifts and they proceeded to play the board game, laughing loudly as the sun sunk lower on the sky.

It was nearing dinner time when they all cleaned the clearing and left towards the castle, Hermione overfilled with joy after a day well spent with her friends. She clutched her purse containing all gifts and cards and thought that even though she was not in the best of places mentally, she had her family here in the magical world. She had tried to find her parents during the last year, but they seemed to have left without a trace. Hermione would not give up; she still kept a close check on her old house and her neighbours but for now they had vanished.

Returning to her room after indulging in more food and some birthday greetings thrown her way from her fellow Gryffindors, even receiving a card from McGonagall, she found another letter on her pillow. Thinking that it must be another greeting from her friends, she opened it.

The letter was quickly dropped on the floor as a beetle scurried out of it and Hermione almost shrieked. “what the…” She muttered and recollected herself from the scare of seeing the bug crawl out of the envelope.

_Happy birthday, Granger. I hope you enjoy the gift I got for you. It sure suits a Mudblood like you._

Hermione could tell from whom it was not only by the neat handwriting, only one person could be this pitiful; Lestrange. The happy feeling from earlier today vanished and the heavy lead that usually resided in her chest returned. Tears burned behind her eye lids as she slumped down on the floor, leaning back on the bed.

Hermione almost laughed at herself for being so affected of the words and ridiculous act of one deranged criminal. However, it was not just the act itself, it was the way she had scribbled Mudblood. It looked exactly like the carvings in her arms. _Had_ t _hat disturbed woman memorised the way she marked me? That is just_ fucked _up!_

It sure was a strange thing to do, to take the time of the day to write this and leave it on the bed of a student, if they abhorred said student so much. _She is full of sick humour and hate; she hates everyone associated with Muggle-borns. But why would she take the time to do this? She must be bored out of her mind… And how did she even get in here?_

Hermione stared at the letters as if the words themselves laughed at her.

“Either that paper is saying something very weird or very funny because you’re staring at it as if it’s talking to you,” she had not noticed Ginny walk in through the door. The redhead slid down beside her, clearly noticing the distress on her friend’s face, “what’s going on and why do you look so sad all the time?”

The tears started to fall, running down Hermione’s cheeks as she threw the piece of parchment at Ginny.

“She gave me a _beetle_. A very lovely and nice gift, the best I’ve had,” Hermione managed to whisper.

Ginny scanned the letter, brows furrowed in confusion, “who… _Oh._ ”

Silence filled the space between them as realisation dawned upon the other girl. She had seen the word on Hermione’s arms, even helped her try to get them erased, without success. Bellatrix must have put some kind of spell on her flawed skin to make the word irreversible. Not even glamour spells had worked.

“Yeah…” Hermione shifted, leaning into Ginny’s embrace as she put an arm around her.

“She is a sick woman,” she whispered and rubbed her arm. “Hey, I have an idea.”

Hermione felt the warmth of Ginny’s hand disappear as she got to her feet and started rummaging through the chest at the foot of her bed. The soft sound of cloth against cloth was mixed with Ginny speaking to herself until Hermione heard the low _clunk_ of glass wrapped in fabric. A smirk made the other girl’s eyes twinkle in delight as she exposed a very familiar bottle hidden in two pairs of stockings.

“Oh no Ginny, not a good idea. You remember what happened the last time,” Hermione chuckled as she read the label. Ginny had somehow managed to smuggle a bottle of Gigglewater into the school.

Recalling her last birthday when Ginny had sneakily gotten behind her parents backs to get Hermione wasted on the beach near the Shell Cottage with this very kind of liquor. It really had been fun, though the next day had not been as fun inside Hermione’s head. 

“It was _hilarious._ We need this. You need this. It’s your birthday for crying out loud!” Ginny pleaded excitedly. “it’s Sunday tomorrow, we don’t even need to get up and study. We finished everything yesterday.”

Hermione could not find anything to break Ginny’s waterproof arguments. She actually wanted to do something reckless.

“Okay but if any teacher finds out… I swear I’m gonna make you pay for it,” Hermione chuckled and wiped away the remaining tears while getting to her feet.

“Yeah fine, whatever. But let’s go and see if our secret place is still intact. People are still in the Great Hall, so no one will notice us sneaking away by ourselves.” Ginny put the bottle inside Hermione’s purse and walked out the door with Hermione in tow.

The Room of Requirements was still intact and had been restored after the Fiendfyre during the battle. It was still unclear how, seeming as no one really spoke about the room or knew of its existence. Hermione wondered if the area had been enchanted with some strong magic during the castle’s first construction.

Tonight, the room provided them with a cosy lounging corner with a huge sofa opposite a burning fireplace. It sure was neat to have a room that could give them what they “needed”; a room to escape to in times of despair. Apparently, the room deemed their foolish drunk endeavour worthy as “time of despair”. Not that Hermione would complain.

Ginny threw herself among the soft pillows, already corking up the bottle and taking a swig right out of it. She threw a fit of laughter that had Hermione chuckle as well. The drink was a good ice breaker, if one would need that.

“The taste is despicable, and I might not ever want to drink it again after tonight. I still have vivid memories of me throwing up in your mum’s hortensia behind the house,” Hermione recalled after swallowing the sour alcoholic flavour, letting a giggle slip. _The sofa is really soft and cosy_ , Hermione thought as she sunk down opposite Ginny, putting a quilt on top both their legs

Ginny smiled at that, gesturing to Hermione to throw the bottle back to her, “yeah, my mum wondered why they smelled so foul. But they grew quite a bit afterwards.”

The girls giggled, sharing stories of the past years at the school and passing the bottle in between them. The memories were bittersweet, and how Hermione longed to have those times back. Even though she knew everyone had it better now with the Dark Lord gone for good.

“Now, Hermione, tell me. I’ve loved seeing your fugly grin all day,” Ginny started off sarcastically, “but it hasn’t gone off my radar that you’ve been… well… off, lately.”

Hermione’s face fell and the foggy cloud the alcohol had provided her with turned into a knot in her throat, “it’s been that obvious, huh.”

“Yeah, you’ve been kind of distant and I haven’t really been able to talk to you. You’re always off to do homework and won’t let anyone bother you. You’ve been not your usual self the past year and of course I know the war has affected you like it has everyone else. We all mourn. But it seems you’ve suffered from your trauma a lot and it worries me.”

Hermione looked into Ginny’s gentle eyes, seeing nothing but care and affection toward her friend. She knew the younger woman only wanted to make sure Hermione was coping, that she was handling it. She also knew she had been bad at it, really bad. However, it was difficult to talk about all the things that manifested inside her head. It was as if trying to form coherent words or sentences describing the vivid pictures in her nightmares was impossible. Even talking about it now made her stomach churn and her memories flared up like lightning, but the alcohol made her a bit braver.

“Well… let’s see, leaving my family and erasing their every memory of me to fight the most dangerous wizard of all time, seeing my friends get tortured and killed right before me and I can’t do anything about it, trying to stand up every morning feeling as if the faith of the entire world rested on my shoulders… everything building up during a period of seven years… Of course, it must have been worse for Harry, but I guess I’m just weak…” Hermione looked down on her fingers playing with the edge of the quilt, her heart heavy with the past. “Everything was just too much, and now there is nothing. I have no purpose. And then this lunatic, this murderous woman gets a second chance to invade my personal sphere again… Everything else that happened was just too much to handle all at once and all the pain has been materialised in what _she_ did to me that night at Malfoy Manor. She ripped me apart beyond repair.”

Ginny had leaned forward and gripped Hermione’s hand, stroking her knuckles with her thumb while giving her a sad look, “You have a purpose, Hermione, and you are not far beyond repair. You’re just a little bit broken and we want to help and fix you.”

Hermione thought she would be crying at this point, but her eyes and heart were empty as if she could not grieve anymore. She had heard Ginny but was already thrown back to Malfoy Manor.

_She could not move. Her limbs were glued to the floorboards with a strong spell performed by the woman cackling maniacally standing above her._

_“Little girl, filth! I’m gonna make you regret the day you were born, Mudblood.”_

_Bellatrix’s eyes flashed in the dim light from the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The hatred the deranged woman felt for Hermione made her skin crawl and the panic amplified, making her heart race in her chest. Lestrange flung herself down, towering over Hermione’s body with a knife in one hand and her wand in the other._

_“Let’s see how much I can humiliate vermin,” Bellatrix chuckled into her ear, her hot breath making Hermione shiver as if the temperature dropped below zero. Then she felt it. Something nudging her mind, slipping into her consciousness as if her defence was but a flimsy curtain. A dark presence, her dark presence, slammed into her memories; a racing bull breaking down every wall Hermione had built around her._

_She could just lay there helpless as Bellatrix rummaged through her childhood memories like she was looking for something in a bag; tossing aside the first memory she had of her parents, giggling uncontrollably as she witnessed Hermione trying to reach out to her classmates as a six year old only to get rejected with mean sneers and scoffs._

_“You’re even unwanted in your own dirty world. You are never enough, are you, Muddy?” Bellatrix shrieked in delight at another memory of her being bullied by classmates in the muggle world; three girls stealing her clothes during gym class and spreading them around the school; a boy telling her she is the ugliest girl in the entire town and that no boy would ever want her; her supposedly best friend at age eight telling her she was a freak after Hermione had accidentally set the friend’s clothes on fire using unknown magic._

_Bellatrix loved the pain it evoked in Hermione, using her memories as a book and flipped through the pages, ripping them apart. She made Hermione live through the hell that had been Hermione’s former life. It was not until Bellatrix dug deeper, finding her subconsciousness, that Hermione were torn apart. The psychological pain was mixed with the physical pain of something sharp ripping her flesh apart on her arm._

_The images from her forgotten past haltered Bellatrix, made her stand still and watch as Hermione would be forever scarred – Hermione being pushed into a locker, forgotten and left for hours as the bus with her schoolmates and teacher drove away. They were on a school trip to a sport’s facility and Hermione had not noticed the magic she had let free and accidentally made the worst of her bullies fall during a sprint and break their ankle. Every kid knew it had been her and they forced her into the small space of a locker and made the teachers believe Hermione had gotten picked up by her parents. The small compartment seemed to get smaller each hour, and Hermione thought she could not breathe. She slammed the walls, cried and screamed until her throat went dry. If it had not been for the coach working there, she would have been left throughout the whole night. Small spaces had been her biggest fear since then._

_“You sure are useless, you had magic you stupid girl. You got what you deserved, you’re weak,” Bellatrix dismissed the storm swirling in her mind and moved on to another memory, and then another one. She saw everything that were kept as dear and dark secrets to her, every step and phase of her life that Hermione had both cherished and hated. Bellatrix defiled all of them with her presence, they had not been hers to see._

_The pain on her arm intensified, while another one was added. The Cruciatus Curse. Hermione screamed, her lungs gasping and aching for air. Bellatrix forced her to relive the pain again_ _and again and–, had she been there for minutes? Hours? Days? She could not tell. Time seemed like an eternity packed into only a lifetime._

_Suddenly, she had found herself on the beach outside the Shell Cottage._

Silence lingered for a moment between Ginny and Hermione as they both recovered from the story Hermione had just revealed. Hermione noticed the tears running down Ginny, her eyes red and cheeks puffy from the overwhelming emotions.

“Hermione…” she whispered and wiped away the tears with her sleeve. Hermione did not know what to say, she was exhausted. The alcohol put on a numbing filter, which she was happy for. She was not sure she could have handled the wave of gritty filth she experienced from recalling this certain memory. Not even Ron and Harry were aware of the true torture Bellatrix Lestrange had performed on her.

“She used Legilimency on you. That’s just barbaric,” Ginny’s voice was still shaky. Hermione bit her lip, nodding slowly and reached for the glass bottle to take a generous swig out of it.

She almost contained the laughter, but it bubbled up and escaped her lips to fill the space, “I guess I can only laugh at it now.”

Ginny snorted but it sounded more like a sob. Her friend did not know what to say other than answering her with laughter herself due to the drink. For now, that is what would numb all the pain inflicted on both of them since entering Hogwarts the first time all those years ago.

“Really though, I want to move on and forget. I just want to have a normal life, you know. Find someone and settle down, start working and become just an ordinary person,” Hermione said, wanting to focus on something else. She started to wish she had something to snack on. It would probably help against the nauseating swirl in her stomach.

“I understand that,” Ginny responded, and Hermione could see she was struggling to keep up with the change of subject.

“I wonder what your children would look like, and how they would act. Both you and Harry are pretty stubborn,” Hermione pondered.

“Okay you’re giving me a whiplash here Hermione,” Ginny stuttered, “we’re going from Bellatrix Deranged fucking your head up to me breeding offspring. You’re funny.”

Hermione started laughing, not from the Gigglewater, but from not knowing what else to do. _My life is just a joke._ Ginny shook her head, but just went along with Hermione’s sharp turns and they kept talking and laughing long into the night as if Hermione’s story had not affected them at all. Of course, it was all pretence, but what could one do when neither of them knew how to handle traumatic experiences and all they wanted was to forget? 


	4. Chapter four

Hermione woke up to the pounding inside her head; apparently an angry gnome had taken residence behind her skull with a sledgehammer. She blinked and tried to locate herself, noticing the flickering embers remnant in a fireplace. At the sight of Ginny sleeping heavily opposite her cradling an empty glass bottle, realisation dawned upon her and she remembered the prior evening.

“Hey Ginny,” Hermione wheezed, gently nudging mentioned girl with her feet, “wake up.”

The redhead mumbled something incoherently and rolled over onto her stomach and fell back asleep again. Hermione was sure the youngest Weasley could sleep through a third Wizarding War, if one would break loose. She nudged her again, this time a bit more harshly, and Ginny sighed in annoyance and sat up with a wince.

“Merlin’s beard! What the hell, Hermione,” she said and massaged her temples, “I’m too hangover for this.”

“Well we’re still in the Room of Requirements, we’re gonna get in trouble if Filch or a teacher notices we’re gone.”

At this, Ginny bolted straight up, again wincing as her head seemed to be invaded by gnomes as well, “holy shit, why did I think this was a good idea… Well okay, let’s get going. I want to go back to my bed and sleep until next semester.”

Hermione chuckled; Ginny sure was a grumpy person before noon. Nonetheless, they still needed to make it back to the Gryffindor tower without anyone seeing them. _A cloak of invisibility would’ve been perfect now_ , Hermione thought and managed to get to her feet. Her stomach lurched and she almost emptied her stomach over the rugged carpet. She hoped the Room would take care of it, if she could not make it out before it actually happened.

“Maybe we should visit the bathroom on our way back…” Hermione muttered and dragged Ginny along with her towards the door. The coast seemed to be clear, the castle was eerily silent with the exception of soft snores form the paintings. Hermione and Ginny snuck around the corner in the direction towards the Gryffindor tower and their own warm beds. The dark corridors were nearly pitch black; however, Hermione did not want to use _lumos_ or any other kind of light spells; some portraits had a habit of snitching on nightwandering students. Hermione also did not think her head could manage such a bright light. Instead, she used a charm that would guide them through the sleeping school by twitching her wand in the right direction at each crossing.

Ginny and Hermione hoped Mrs Norris would not find them, or that Peeves would not hang around and the girls were almost sure they would make it back unnoticed, reaching the last set of staircases, when an all too familiar voice startled them. 

“Well, well, well… What do we have here? A Mudblood and her mudloving friend,” Bellatrix purred from somewhere in the darkness, her wand giving off an irritating white light that had the students squint back at her. The light illuminated the already porcelain white skin of the witch, making her appear more terrifying than she already was. “Cat got your tongue, dear? Have you been out celebrating your worthless _birthday_ , Granger? Weasley? Shagging some poor boys in some broom closet?”

Hermione blushed, though fury instantly boiled at the teacher’s distasteful accusations, “Where are your babysitters, _Lestrange?_ ” Hermione knew that McGonagall would not accept Bellatrix wandering around the castle unsupervised, therefore she was not worried there might be any repercussions of their little night stroll.

“Oh, those useless mongrels would not know how to handle me, how to keep me contained. I do as I please even though I should have them breathing down my neck. Much more fun sneaking around the school, like good old times.”

Ginny huffed, “we’re not scared of you. You don’t even have a wand and you can’t punish us. No one will believe you and if you call for Filch, you will be the one in most trouble.”

Bellatrix’s grin got even wider, her dark eyes sparkling with menacing joy at the heated tone in Ginny’s voice, “you should be scared of me. You should _always_ be scared of me.”

The way she eyed Hermione during her threat made her skin crawl and Hermione would have none of it.

“You’re a sick, deranged woman, Lestrange,” Hermione hissed, “if you don’t mind, Ginny and I would like to go to our room.”

“Are you not gonna give Big Mean Bella a good night kiss first?” Bellatrix cackled, “I gotta say, Mudblood, I’m a bit hurt that you didn’t show even a slightest bit of gratitude. I thought you were a miss goody little perfect.”

Hermione looked at her confused, yet sure the other woman was goading her into a fight that would not end well, “what are you talking about?”

“The little present I left for you on your bed, _happy birthday_ Mudblood,” Bellatrix sing sang, sending her a blow kiss while looking like a petulant child.

Beside her, Ginny seemed to have sobered up considerably, because she was practically fuming in rage and Hermione had to grab her elbow from jumping the other woman. A fist fight between a student and a teacher was the last thing they needed on their record during their last year at school, even though the teacher deserved to have her nose broken by a fist or two.

“You don’t deserve to be here,” Ginny seethed through her teeth. Her words did not affect Bellatrix the slightest, everything bounced off of her.

“I don’t care what you think, Weasel. What I care about is the state of today’s youth, can’t even show a slightest bit of gratitude towards your elders and betters. Must be Mudblood trait. I spent nearly three minutes on finding that bug, another ten at sneaking into your room. You should be kissing my toes,” Bellatrix drawled, and Hermione knew she wanted a reaction and did not want to walk into her trap.

“Why should I care? Now let us through, we’re done here,” with that, Hermione urged Ginny further down the corridor, leaving the witch behind. Just as they reached the stairs, Bellatrix nearly shouted at the girls;

“You sure are a good witch, for a mudblood. You impress me, and I’m not easily impressed. I wonder what Hannah Douglas and Lizzie Bains would say if they could see you now. Do you think they’d be scared? I bet they would still call you a _freak_ ,” Bellatrix howled with laughter, waking probably the whole castle with that echoing cackle.

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks; rage, hatred, sadness and hurt exploding in her veins at the mention of her former tormentors’ names. It was not the names themselves that evoked such a strong reaction within the Gryffindor. It was that Bellatrix remembered them, used the things she had taken from Hermione’s subconsciousness without permission, to use her memories against her now.

“You are pathetic, _professor_ Lestrange,” Hermione spit the words, “you think you’re so clever, so evil and bad and dangerous. But do you know what I think?” Hermione had turned around, wand in her hand and pointed toward the black clad witch who stared at her. The Gryffindor towered over Bellatrix, the length difference between them a useful advantage in this situation and Hermione stared the other woman down, “you’re pathetic and you have no purpose any longer. Your Master died. Your side lost and now you’re hurt and trying desperately to hold on to whatever pride you have left. Your blood status means nothing today, _nothing._ Your kind is equal to us _mudbloods_ now _,_ if anything, your blood is worth less than mine. Now you’re just some irrelevant hag sneaking around at school, breaking into students’ bedrooms like a little creep. You’re perverted and old and just a token lost case the Ministry is trying to save to establish some kind of respect back into society again. Your life is pissed upon right now and it doesn’t matter if you throw all these insults and extra homework at me–,”

“Hermione…” Ginny mumbled beside her, though she ignored her and the hurried steps she heard down the corridor. Her blood boiled with adrenaline and she felt oh so alive and _angry,_ angrier than she had been in a long, long time. _Maybe there’s still some alcohol left in my system…_

“I will take it. I will take anything you throw at me, you pathetic excuse of a Death Eater. You will never be capable of change, to learn how to love and be loved. I hope you rot in this castle and that the rats will eat you down to your bones. In fifty years, your name will be forgotten.”

Hermione was nearly out of breath, her pulse throbbing in her ears and her hot blood running through dilated veins. Bellatrix stared at her, a small glint of fear in her eyes though it was quickly masked by arrogance _and was that respect?_ Hermione thought but her train of thought was interrupted by McGonagall’s shrill angry voice.

“What in the name of Merlin are you doing? Madam Lestrange, where are your Aurors? Granger, Weasley, what are you doing outside your dorms at this time of the night?” her worried gaze scanned the girls to see if they were unharmed and let out a breath of relief, though it was quickly replaced by a stern look.

“I want all of you to explain right now!”

“Well I was on my way to back to my room from a night walk by the lake when I ran into these lost pupils, I was only going to lead them back to their rooms and notify Filch of their disobedience when you came running,” Bellatrix muttered and cleared her throat, trying to sound trustworthy.

The Headmistress sighed and turned to the girls, “why are you two out sneaking around now, Miss Granger?”

“We accidentally fell asleep in the Room of Requirements and woke up now,” Hermione left out the alcohol and was thankful it had not been Filch who had found them, he did not listen to any excuses at all.

“We swear, we only want to go back to our beds and be left alone but this _woman_ turned up and would not listen,” Ginny tried to defend them. Meanwhile, more footsteps could be heard running towards them and a second later two Aurors showed up. One of them, Leanna Murk, the blonde woman who seemed to have the least patience with Bellatrix’s shenanigans.

“Madam Murk and Master Rustley, please escort Madam Lestrange to my office,” McGonagall said curtly.

The Aurors nodded and grabbed Bellatrix by the arm. Bellatrix shrugged them off, muttering that she would walk perfectly fine by herself. As they disappeared down the hallway, the former Death Eater turned her head around and stared at Hermione with a look of _something._ There was something going on in that witch’s mind and Hermione knew she would probably not like her thoughts if she could read them.

“Now, please tell me why you sounded so upset earlier?” McGonagall gave Hermione a worried look and appeared to be quite interested in what Hermione had to say.

“She keeps calling me mudblood and I had enough,” Hermione mumbled, not really wanting to get into detail why the older woman riled her up so much. It did not seem like the time nor place to update McGonagall on that.

“We’re both really tired and just want to go to bed,” Ginny yawned from her side. The Headmistress nodded.

“Of course. Please try and remember the clock the next time you use the Room of Requirements, we do not want a repeat of this night. Good night, ladies,” McGonagall smiled gently and waited for them to enter the portrait hole just up the stairs.

When they got inside, they let out a breath of relief.

“Damn Hermione, that was the _coolest_ you’ve ever been!? Hell, I was fricking terrified of you out there. Bellatrix looked as if she’d swallowed a whole raw onion or something. You really pissed her off!” Ginny laughed on their way toward their bedroom.

“It felt… Incredible actually. Like I got some part of myself back,” Hermione managed the first ever genuine smile spread across her face in a what felt like forever.

“You were incredible, wait until the boys hear about this tomorrow. They’ll love it,” Ginny smirked.

Hermione did not think she would be able to fall asleep that night, her head and body was still filled with adrenaline, but also pride and joy at being able to not cower in front of Bellatrix. Perhaps she would be able to reclaim the Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons back now that they might have established some kind of equal ground between them. Not that she had given Bellatrix an ounce of what the dark witch had given her, but it sure felt good to be able to talk back. However, as soon as her head hit her pillow, she fell into a dreamless restful sleep and would not wake up until afternoon the next day. 


	5. Chapter five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo... hi. Sorry for leaving you hanging like a year ago... Life you know? Corona and all that. But it's November and it's dark and I watched the Haunting of Bly Manor and my lesbian ass just wandered to loom for fanfics and saw that I still got comments on this fic. So thank you sooo much for reading and commenting despite it being a year since my last update. You inspired me to take up writing again. 
> 
> Sorry for any mistakes.

Harry and Ron had practically howled with laughter when Ginny retold the story of what had happened outside the Gryffindor common room that night. She had not left out a single detail and had memorised Hermione’s little speech word for word. Harry and Ron had dunked her back and told her that she was brilliant for daring to stand up to Bellatrix like that and Hermione had beamed, loving the attention and feeling of being in the right. She had not told them what she had told Ginny, about Bellatrix choice of torture method hat dreadful night. That was not something she shared lightly with anyone.

Bellatrix did not seem to have taken the little lash out very well. At first, she did not show anything, treated Hermione as if she was air. The safety measures regarding the dark witch had increased, the Aurors watching her every step more closely but that did not stop Bellatrix from starting to treat Hermione like scum a few weeks later.

Bellatrix would direct the hardest questions at her. Questions regarding something so particular as in which temperatures and during which month was the best to curse metallic objects. If Hermione was not Hermione, she would never been able to answer such a question. However, Hermione was Hermione and could answer the question as easily as she would answer what time of the day it was.

“The best time of cursing metallic objects is at dawn in the middle of February, as the temperature is at a relatively warm yet not too warm degree. This is to reach the curse’s fullest potential, and make it slightly more resistant to counter curses,” Hermione smirked as Bellatrix’s face grew more foul with each word, “obviously this is specific to each country as the climate is different in for example Spain than in England.”.

Bellatrix curled her lips in disgust but continued holding her monologue on how metal was by far the best element to curse if you wanted to slowly poison someone, but wooden objects were superior when you wanted to use a memory loss curse.

Other times she would throw objects at Hermione’s school desk and demand her to localise a curse and neutralise it or curse new objects with certain spells. Of course, Hermione had read about how to do all those things beforehand, especially when she had a hard time solving a problem the first time Bellatrix would throw her one. Harry was not left out of this little game Bellatrix had, he also had to be punished for being the boy who just would not die. Obviously, he did not succeed very well and was constantly humiliated by Bellatrix. Not that he really cared.

Another thing Bellatrix would punish the whole class with, was with pop-quizzes, which Hermione would finish first as she was always prepared. Hermione always returned the essays that grew longer and longer before anyone else did and her friends groaned loudly at every new assignment they would get from the teacher. Bellatrix would not give up, neither would Hermione. 

Despite Madam Black’s attempt at giving Hermione hell, Hermione found herself actually learning new things during Bellatrix’s classes. They were challenging and dared to touch subjects no other teacher had dared to touch. There was real depth, real issues, the lessons brought knowledge she would actually use if she would become an Auror. One thing Hermione, Ginny, Harry and Ron agreed on, was that Bellatrix was not an idiot. She was clever, cunning and passionate. She would use her real-life experiences to bring examples of situations that would require certain skills.

Of course, there were moments of madness. Hermione supposed a life lived in Azkaban did that to you. Bellatrix’s eye would become dark as she spoke of memories touching too close to her life as a servant for the greatest murderer that had ever lived. She would scream and throw books and chairs around, shouting Unforgivable curses and Hermione was lucky the Aurors had confiscated her wand. Sometimes the ghostly colour of her skin would turn even more pale and she would be tucked away in memories, stuck in her subconscious with a blank stare. She would not even flinch when Leanna Murk, the Auror, would grab her by her arm and try to shake her back to life. The classes were usually finished by then, the following one usually gave more homework to do as if it was the students’ fault that she was not mentally _there_ all the time.

Ginny had come up with a theory that Bellatrix would give them more work every time Hermione would shine and be all smart in class, despite Hermione never raising her hand to show off on purpose. Ginny theorised Bellatrix had a vendetta. Hermione knew she had a vendetta. This belief was reinforced when Hermione and her friends entered Bellatrix’s classroom one day, and was met with an empty floor, all the desks and chairs standing along the walls. For a second they all thought Bellatrix had gone completely mad.

“Good morning class, I hope you’ve had a good night’s sleep. You will need it for today,” Bellatrix cackled mischievously from the staircase up to her office, knowing very well most of her students had been up long into the night, finishing her ridiculously long and specific essays, “today we will duel. A real duel. You will fail miserably, and you will be drenched in sweat after I’m done with you.”

The class groaned, none of which had prepared even the slightest for this. They had hoped it would just be another monologue of Bellatrix’s to either sleep through or to hide behind their quills while desperately trying to avoid the intense dark stare of their professor. Hermione on the other hand, felt an unease sweep over her. _Would Bellatrix herself duel against any of the students? That could – no_ would, _end badly._

“Now, I assume all of you have heard of duelling, the rules and formality and all those boring things, so I’m not gonna go into details. All you have to know is that _real life_ duelling does not contain any bowing or curtsying. It’s either ride or die. You won’t get much time to think, in fact, you get no time to think at all. This will be good especially for you muddy mudblood Granger. Perfect practice to keep your annoying mouth shut.”

Hermione bit her tongue and had to force herself not to give Bellatrix what she wanted. A response, a look or even the slightest of grimace would give Bellatrix a reason to shriek in laughter. Indifference was the only thing so far that did not rile the other woman up. 

“I was thinking I should do a little demonstration. I asked my fellow babysitters to assist,” Bellatrix nodded at the now three Aurors standing in the corner looking grim and unamused, “but they insisted on them supervising and controlling me. So that left med with you lot, any of you up for a duelling demonstration? Getting your knickers in a real twist?”, Bellatrix sneered, her eyes scanning the room for anyone even a little bit insane enough to volunteer to her messed up proposal. 

“Miss Granger, you are always to excited to show everyone how bright and perfect you are, you should be ecstatic,” Bellatrix’s gaze burned into Hermione, hatred and bloodlust sending cold shivers down Hermione’s spine, “get up here and show your betters what you got. Or is the golden girl of the Golden Trio too much of a coward, only really good at reading books and not at real magic? Typical mudbloods…” 

Hermione felt anger flare up inside her, hot flames of rage at the older woman’s constant belittling of her. _Of course, she probably got off on me fighting back that drunken night a while back. She probably saw it as an invitation to give me more hell._

“Fine, since your only source of entertainment is to pick at girls not even half your age,” Hermione hissed and stomped to stand opposite Bellatrix, who now stood in the middle of the classroom. Ginny gave Hermione a “what-the-hell-is-going-on”- look, Ron’s expression full of worry while Harry’s eyes watched Bellatrix warily.

“Miss Granger, her wand has been altered with limitations spell, she can’t cast any curses, especially none of the Unforgivables,” Leanna said, probably really angry that Bellatrix had convinced Professor McGonagall to accept this whole ordeal. Hermione gave her a wry smile, knowing that Bellatrix did not need any damaging spells to inflict severe pain on someone.

“Yeah, yeah, my wand is childproof…” Bellatrix groaned, stretching her neck as if this was just a game. It probably was to her. They bowed out of pretended respect, never leaving the other woman out of sight since neither of them trusted the other one would follow the rules. 

Hermione felt really small in front of Bellatrix, despite the few inches she had on the woman in height. Bellatrix appeared regal as she stood with pride in her dark eyes, full of excitement to finally have a reason to toss Hermione around like a puppet. Her black curls hanging around her pale face, surrounding lips that were twisted into a menacing smile. Pure evil radiated from the former Death Eater. However, Hermione thought she could detect something else than unrestrained glee in the other woman’s eyes. Something so small it was only visible if you knew what to look for. The dark circles under her eyes and her hollowed cheeks, skin stretched over sharp cheekbones, tattled about something Hermione knew very well. Fear. Isolation. Abandonment.

Bellatrix was one lonely woman, forced into a world that she knew so little about. Of course, she would be scared, of course she would threaten and hurt anyone who dared to put her in a cage. Fear was the only language she understood.

Hermione winced at her own sudden empathic feelings toward the former Death Eater. This was not something she had the time nor wish to feel right now as Bellatrix pointed her wand straight between her eyes with a menacing snarl on her lips.

“I’m going to get you, little mudblood,” Bellatrix shrieked, suddenly flicking her wand at Hermione, who immediately collapsed as if someone had swept her off her feet. Hermione did not even get a chance to blink. Her head had banged against the wooden floor and she could detect Bellatrix swiftly dancing around her through her blurred vision. 

Hermione groaned, desperately trying to find foothold and remember all the protective spells she had once been taught. She winced as her head thrummed to the beat of her loud pulse. Adrenaline coursed through her veins and the instinct to flee was greater than fighting. She managed to conjure up a protective shield around her as another blast from Bellatrix wand shot right at her. Bellatrix’s spell caused flashing white light to erupt as it was blocked by Hermione’s shield.

“Coward,” Bellatrix screamed and began shooting hex after hex at her. Hermione felt her energy drain with every hit to her shield and she knew she had to retaliate soon and figure something out. She would not give up just to get this over with. This duel was not just practice to either of them, it was a fight for dominance over the other. Or more, defending the piece of honour Hermione thought she had manage to win. 

Hermione broke free from her spot, tumbling down on the floor as another spell hit her. This time Hermione was fast to give back as good as she gets.

“Stupefy!” Hermione shouted and managed to hit Bellatrix, who was flung backwards with a look of surprise on her face. A loud cheer was heard from the rest of the class and Ginny nodded at Hermione encouragingly. Bellatrix growled in rage and locked Hermione’s legs and arms with an invisible rope, even before getting back up to her feet. _She is so fast and lithe for her age,_ Hermione thought as she desperately tried to get loose from the invisible grip on her limbs. Bellatrix laughed maniacally as she dragged Hermione around on the floor.

“Not so tough now are you, silly girl!” Bellatrix flicked her wrist again and Hermione felt her clothes tighten around her, restricting her breathing and movements even further. This is where it started to go downhill, really fast.

Hermione was thrown back to the memory of being locked up in that locker all those years ago. The air started to feel thicker and more difficult to breathe, like tar. Her vision blurred again, black dots creeping from the corners. Somewhere, she could hear her old bullies laugh at her and she knew has managed to break into her conscious again using Legilimency, knowing perfectly well where to find her once hidden traumas. Legilimency was not a curse and had therefore escaped the Aurors’ attempt at limiting Bellatrix. 

Bellatrix dug deeper, planting seeds of terror that quickly grew into dark looming trees. She forced Hermione to relive her claustrophobic experiences combined with the new one that Bellatrix inflicted upon her. Hermione wanted to die, she wanted the ground to open beneath her and swallow her whole as humiliation and panic flooded her mind.

Suddenly, it ended. It seemed as if it had only lasted a small fraction of a second. Which it probably had, but Hermione felt weak as if the torture had lasted for hours. No one seemed to have noticed the horror that had raged inside her head, as all of them just looked hesitantly at Hermione squirming on the floor trying to find a weakness in the other woman’s spell. This was only a game to her; it was only to show Hermione who was in charge. Though she had not needed to, Hermione knew. She knew madness would win over logic in this context, decades of fighting with magic would _obviously_ win over a few years of Hogwarts.

“You are such a tragic hero, you don’t fit in here. You are a scared, silly little girl and no one really likes you. You only earned the hero status for being a bookworm and for shagging Potter in a broom closet,” Bellatrix taunted.

Hermione’s heart pounded and she fought with every bit of strength she could muster as she found a weakness in Bellatrix’s sturdy spell. She managed to get out and move to her feet and saw the look of disdain on the dark witch’s face.

“Expelliarmus!” Predictable? Absolutely. Efficient? Yes. Bellatrix’s wand flew from her hands and she fell to the floor as Hermione was quick to throw another stunning spell at her. At this, the Aurors ran to collect Bellatrix’s wand and Leanna informed her that her little demonstration session was over. Bellatrix whined as a petulant child when she got to her feet. 

“Well, you got lucky you little brat. The next time I won’t be as lenient,” Hermione knew she meant the whole “digging-into-your-deepest-trauma”-thing, and the Gryffindor was scared. Her hands were trembling, and her heart was still racing. 

"Hermione,” someone said behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder. Hermione turned around to find Ginny giving her a bright smile, “that was awesome! You totally rocked that.”

Hermione gave her a tight-lipped smile; she did not feel like a winner at all, though the rest of the class seemed to see her as one. She felt naked and exposed, her chest filled to the brim with anxiety and memories she would rather just forget.

The rest of the class passed by in a haze, Hermione was not mentally present though she could vaguely remember her and Ginny dodging some simple jinxes in the back of the classroom. Bellatrix had ordered the students to practice duelling. Ginny could tell something was not alright with Hermione, as Hermione gave a half-hearted attempt at an _Impedimenta_ jinx, which Hermione normally would be quite good at.

No one seemed to have noticed Hermione breaking down inside, she had woken up feeling pretty good about herself, finally feeling like she could handle having Bellatrix as her teacher. Now she just felt empty, angry and afraid.

 _One step forward, two steps back._


	6. Chapter six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the most interesting chapter perhaps, but I think it's quite important and a good filler chapter. Some reflection time for Hermione. Thank you so much for your comments, I appreciate them a lot! <3

Hermione woke up early on Saturday morning, having slept little to not at all. Her sleep paralysis had left her trembling after dark curls and cold eyes filled with rage had made it impossible to fall back asleep. The little duel the day before had stirred emotions and memories she thought she had managed to lock in a trunk deep down in her subconscious. Alas, that was not the case. Bellatrix had planted herself inside her most secret memories, were her cackling laughter echoed with promises of tearing down every wall Hermione had built up. 

The Gryffindor needed to empty her mind, to be as far away from Bellatrix as possible and do something that had no relation to dark arts or Voldemort or dead friends. She decided to go out for a hike, alone. It was still too early for any of her friends to be up so Hermione quickly got to her feet and put on some warm clothes. She packed a bag with a quilt, her journal, quill and ink before sneaking out soundlessly from her dorm. She planned to be back in time for breakfast and joining her friends for their little trip to Hogsmeade they usually did.

The sun threw a pale light through the almost naked trees as it slowly climbed over the mountains, illuminating the few yellow leaves that still clung to their branches. Though Hermione’s mind was cloudy, she could still appreciate the beauty of the decaying world around her as October neared its’ end. The air was crisp, calm and silent, which she appreciated as her thoughts were roaring.

As she walked on the path along the lakeshore, enjoying the last warmth of the sun before November would sweep in over the world with its’ eternal grey skies, she began thinking of her situation. Hermione cannot remember when this depression first made its entrance. Had it always been there? How did it really start? Was it only because of all the things she had been through at Hogwarts or was it tied to her memories as a child?

Of course, she had been _happy_ , too. Not everything had been this dark all the time. Though, it was worsening, she knew that. She also knew that she could not keep going like this, her plan of passing through her last year at Hogwarts without drama seemed to have been flushed down the toilet anyway. Also, why should she let some damned old hag who used to be the _evillest woman on earth_ stomp into her life and ruin her last year at Hogwarts? Her last year should be full of fun, making those last happy memories that she would remember with a faint smile as she grew old. Hermione’s thoughts shifted between _why am I so damned sad and anxious_ to _that woman is not allowed to terrorise me into her own bathroom rug_ without any answers, just more questions.

When Hermione reached a secluded spot under some trees near the lake, overlooking the castles with all its towers and pinnacles, she began unpacking her bag. She laid the quilt on the ground and all her writing equipment and sat down, opening her journal to the next fresh page. This is what she usually did when her head never seemed to shut up. Writing was a marvellous way to empty the troubles of her soul.

She began scribbling down all the previous events; her little drunken adventure with Ginny, the headbutt in the corridor later that night with no other than Madam Black herself, the many unfairly difficult tasks and essays, Bellatrix’s uneven mood and at last, the duel. She wrote about her dreams, that they had been pleasant for a short while until this night when they had come back even more horrible. Hermione wrote about the fear, the anxiety attacks, that she had such a hard time talking about it with her friends.

_Why is it so hard for me to talk to them? They are the only one I have left._

Hermione felt ashamed at this revelation. It was almost like she had forgotten that they actually cared about her. Of course, she had seen that Bellatrix had been extra hard on Hermione, but they had not noticed that it had affected her more than even she thought it had. Ginny knew more than the boys, but Hermione knew Ron and Harry would offer them to help her as soon as she opened her mouth. She quickly scribbled down a mental note to herself to bring some of it up with them, they would understand.

 _How do I protect myself from her? Maybe I should ask Harry to teach me more duelling tactics. Dumbledore’s Army improved me a lot, and of course all the time battling Death Eaters the last years sure helped me. Though Bellatrix is like no one else, she doesn’t just_ know _magic, she feels it. It’s actually quite amazing and it’s a shame she her potential have gone wasted to the Dark Arts. I should also ask Harry about Occlumency, I need to protect my mind even more._

_But why has Bellatrix directed all her issues at me? Is it only because I’m a muggleborn? I’m not the only one in my class, and no one else have had such a hard time with her as I have. Why is she like that, surely she should not be more deranged than the other Death Eater, but she was. Well, Barty Crouch Jr seemed mad but could at least hold himself from killing anyone who disagreed with him. What have Bellatrix been through?_

_She was from a pure blood family. That came with wealth, which meant she should not have had any material problems at least. And social status. Sure, the social status usually brought expectations on behaviours, dress codes, future plans and expectations on certain marriages with other pure bloods. Were there too many cases of inbreeds before her in her blood line? That would explain things._

_The whole Voldemort thing would of course make you mad in the end, maybe she just was by his side longer than most of them was? She devoted herself endlessly, with everything she had, to his cause. Hermione had never seen anyone worship another person like Bellatrix had. Was still doing, probably. She would even throw tomes and rocks at students who dared to speak his name in her proximity._

_Maybe all of it is a mixture of being raised in a strict family, some bad childhood traumas and Voldemort. That should be the case. It is interesting though to try and analyse her, even though I don’t know why. I don’t want anything to do with her but maybe it would be good to try and understand her? To protect myself by making her more predictable. It’s unfortunate that the Magical world does not have a lot on the human psychology. Muggles are way ahead in that department. Maybe you don’t need to understand humans as much when you can just magic your way out of bad situations. I will ask McGonagall if she can help me get some Muggle books on the topic._

Hermione looked up from her journal to see the sun had risen much higher in the sky. The others would be up by now and soon they would wonder where she was. With that, she flicked her wand at the still wet ink in her journal to speed up the drying process. She packed her belongings back in her bag and began walking back toward the castle.

Her mind and heart felt a thousand pounds lighter, even though she knew it would only be temporarily. While walking, she thought that she should start a new hobby, a more physical one since she knew these promenades made everything feel just a tiny bit better for an hour. Running? She had heard back in her muggle world that running was one of the most effective ways to keep the brain activated and alert. Well, she had to figure something out.

Hogwarts seemed to be well awake and the corridors had filled with students lazily moving toward the Great Hall. The smell of fried eggs, sausages and toast filled the air and reminded Hermione how hungry she was when her stomach ached to be nourished. She steered in the same directions as her school mates and saw familiar two red heads and a black mop just a few steps away. Harry, Ron and Ginny all seemed to be caught up in a discussion on the latest Quidditch practice and how Ginny probably was the best Chaser since forever. Well, at least Ginny thought she was.

“Morning,” Hermione chimed in and fell in pace with her friends.

“Blimey!” Ron whimpered, Hermione startling all of them, “When did you get here? Are you at it again with that bloody time turner, are you?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “No, I took a morning walk since you three never wake up, and I just got back. Also, I have a question, Harry.” 

Harry looked quizzically at her.

“Well, I think I should learn some Occlumency, and duelling, but Occlumency first. You, Harry, is the only one I know with more extensive knowledge on it. It’s not something I can just read in a book,” Hermione started, Ron and Harry both raising their eyebrows at her suggestion but also the fact that she admitted that _it’s not something she just can read in a book._

“Explain,” Harry simply said, eyeing her suspiciously from behind his round glasses.

This Hermione had not given much thought. She knew they would ask but she had not really come up with a good answer. It had been hard enough to tell Ginny and she did not want to go through that whole ordeal again, it was painful to talk about and she did not want to cry in the middle of the Great Hall during their breakfast.

She tried to come up with a good summary of all the things Bellatrix had done to her while sitting down by the Gryffindor table. Food appeared instantly before her and for a second, she wanted to forget she ever said something as her stomach growled loudly.

“Well… Bellatrix,” she began before shovelling two whole fried eggs into her mouth. This was more Ron’s style, and while she usually tried to keep a somewhat proper table manner, she was just too hungry to care. She could not remember the last time she had felt like she was starving.

“Bellatrix what?” Harry asked, looking even more confused now. Hermione gulped down a glass of pumpkin juice and hummed in satisfaction. _Maybe this walk helped more than I thought it would._

“Bellatrix used Legilimens on me back at Malfoy Manor, and she used it during the duel yesterday. She found even the smallest pieces of traumatic memories I had repressed and forced me to relive every bit. I need to protect myself better from her” Hermione suppressed a burp; that was a limit she would not cross.

Both Ron and Harry stared at her, while Ginny gave her a small encouraging smile.

“I’m not going into it more, that’s all you need to know,” Hermione shifted her focus back on her breakfast, “will you help me?”

Harry blinked as he realised what she had said and connected it to what she wanted, “of course. Of course, I’ll help you. But you should talk to Professor McGonagall about this. Bellatrix has some serious issues with you, and she’s only getting worse. I’m worried about you. I have noticed that something’s off with you and I think it’s because of Bellatrix.”

Hermione almost teared up, she had nearly forgotten just how good of a friend Harry was and that he had his moments of thoughtfulness. Keeping up the façade that everything was alright had been more tiresome than, well, at least starting to tell the truth. She felt like at least one rock had been lifted from the mountains residing inside her chest.

“If those Aurors wasn’t around you’d probably be dead by now. The way she looks at you,” Ron shuddered ad the thought as he loudly chewed on his food, “yeah, if looks could kill.”

“Way to cheer her up, Ron,” Ginny sighed, “Hermione will beat her ass if she has too.”

Hermione gave the younger Weasley a grateful smile, “unlikely, Bellatrix is an excellent witch and duellist, I’m an amateur.”

“You give her too much credit. Besides, Professor McGonagall should still be informed, she’d want to know about this,” said Ginny with a stern look.

Hermione nodded and turned her attention back at her food, “I guess you’re right. I just don’t have the energy to be involved in anything that has to do with McGonagall and Bellatrix…”

“And that’s what worries me, Hermione. When I first got to know you, you wanted to involve teachers in everything we did and now that we encourage you to do it you don’t want to? It sounds like you’re scared.” Harry’s expression was indeed worrisome. Ron wore the same face though there was another small hint of a feeling in his eyes that Hermione did not want to think about. He should have let her go long ago. 

Hermione was scared, she was terrified for her life that Bellatrix would lurk around every corner, wand ready to strike the final blow, or worse, torture her mind ruthlessly until she ended up in St Mungo’s with the Longbottoms.

Of course, she should let professionals handle this situation, and she should tell McGonagall, but would it really help, or would it only make things worse? Her trust in authorities had not really healed since the Ministry of Magic had taken so long to take action when Voldemort had returned. Despite her being so negatively affected by all this, she could not help but feel a little bit intrigued by Bellatrix as a person. She was not sane at all but there was something in Bellatrix that Hermione could see in herself. _Perhaps I’m turning mad, perhaps I’m just turning into her_


	7. Chapte seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloo again! This chapter ended up being quite fun to write. There's some interaction between our faves and I really hop you'll enjoy it. 
> 
> Sorry for any spelling or grammatical errors – English is not my first language.

Hermione spent the rest of her day in the library. Her friends would practice quidditch throughout most of the day and she wanted to finish some of her assignments and find some interesting tomes to devour; her mind somewhat peaceful enough after her morning walk to be able to completely surrender to knowledge-seeking.

It was a beautiful autumnal Saturday, most of her classmates spending it either at the quidditch court, picknicks or in Hogsmeade. The library echoed with its silence, with only two or three students sitting quietly to themselves. The smell of parchments, old tomes and dust filled her nostrils and calmed her even more instantly. The library felt like an extra home when she was feeling exceptionally low.

Hermione worked fast on her easier homework. Her mind completely drowned in the books she was reading and the text she was writing until she only had one parchment left to complete. Bellatrix had – after their little duel – raised her eyebrows at Hermione while giving back the assignment she had spent hours on last week.

_“Losing your touch, Muddy? You completely forgot to write about the side effects of blood magic. Also, the paragraph about tying the Imperius curse to a personal object was so frustratingly boring to read. I want it corrected and at my desk on Monday morning.”_

Which was just another thing that Ron had mentioned this morning when discussing the dark witch’s issues with Hermione. Bellatrix had been cruel to all of them regarding deadlines, but they all knew Hermione’s essay had lived up to the curriculum and more so. Just not Bellatrix’s curriculum and she was not exactly known for being lenient with mistakes. 

Hermione scribbled furiously, more blotches of ink spreading all over her parchment as she corrected everything _Professor Black_ had crossed. Even the former Death Eater’s handwriting held a tone of smug arrogance and pride. This time, Hermione would write it as if the receiver of this assignment was only five years old.

All of a sudden, fury blossomed in her chest. Instead of feeling exhausted and numb like she had done the past year, white hot rage quickly flared up inside her. The quill nearly teared the parchment as it glided across the surface. Hermione had never felt quite anything like this before; anger simmering just beneath her skin, blood boiling and she wanted to tear the whole library apart with her bare hands.

A storm over an open sea was roaring within, and for once Hermione was not just floating among the waves desperately trying to keep her head above water. She was the cause of the storm, though she was caught in a vessel like a ship in a bottle. She wanted– no, _needed_ to explode. _Why am I just so angry?_

Hermione was almost never the one to lose control. She was always composed, ruled mostly by logic and rationality and could think clearly were most would succumb to their feelings and instincts. However, suddenly Hermione felt the need to damage something and scream at someone. All the fear, all the nightmares, all the _fucking_ _memories_ had been mixed into a brown, viscous sludge, which had been suppressed far too deep and under far too much pressure over the years. It finally started to ooze through cracks and vents and how she needed to just let it all out.

It had all been much; to have borne the fate of the world upon her shoulder for so long; to have her childhood ending abruptly at the age of eleven to fight the darkest wizard of all time; to constantly have to worry about her safety and others; to be the one with the answers and the plans and the solutions. Hermione was out of solutions. She had been empty since the war, numb and scarred deep within with only fleeting moments of escape.

Her life had passed her by too fast. She swore it had only been last week that she had gotten on the Hogwarts Express for the first time, that it had only been just a couple of days since she first met the two scrawny boys that now were her best friends. Everything had passed, and now she was sitting in the library fuming at the feeling of being deprived of _moments._ She was enraged that this witch had the nerve to terrorise her when she had gotten the gift of life and the honour of teaching impressionable youth.

The good feeling she had gotten from her walk this morning vanished quickly, having only served as a calm before the storm. The rage had been there for a long time, dwelling somewhere Hermione never ventured into. Though the rage was something new, it sure was something Hermione needed because she felt wide awake for the first time since–, Hermione did not know _._ Rage was something to feel and feeling was something she had longed for. Rage gave her a purpose.

Adrenaline made her hands shake and what she was writing was almost not readable but damn she was determined to throw this scroll at the source of all this pent-up fury. _Bellatrix_. She would walk up to her as soon as she was done, despite it being only Saturday. Hermione knew Bellatrix would probably be in her study since Bellatrix was never seen outside her own quarters. Well, except for that night Ginny and her had met the woman wandering around.

Once again, the realisation that she sat there being as angry as she had never been before just because _the evillest woman in the entire world_ would not approve of her performances in class dawned upon her. Hermione wanted to laugh louder than she had ever laughed before. Scream until her voice could not scream anymore. She just could not get over the absurdity of it all.

As she breathed through the frenzy, her mind finally started to calm down as she finished the last sentence. Reading through her work with a satisfied hum, she cleaned all the ink blotches from the parchment with magic while deciding she would find Bellatrix straight away and make her read it directly. She would not let that woman push her down, make her feel worthless and empty and scared. She would no longer let Bellatrix be the cause of all her restless nightmares–

Low chuckles interrupted her chain of thought. Three boys that must have arrived after she did sat a table close to her, whispering to themselves, clearly exasperated. “That whore of a pureblood deserves a real punishment. I can’t stand seeing her in class acting the way she does, as if she owned the place. She should beg us all for forgiveness,” one of them muttered, fists clenched on the desk.

“She should’ve been left in Azkaban to rot or left as a plaything for the dementors at least before they were banished,” another boy exclaimed, earning himself supportive grins from his friends.

“I just can’t believe they let her be here. She tortured my sister to death, and so many others! Swear, if I ever catch her wandering alone…” The threat was left hanging in the air and even though Hermione had found herself simmering of rage only moments ago, she felt uneasy at the pure hatred and blood lust that laced the boy’s menacing voice.

“That _bitch–,”_

“ _Oi–_ please constrain yourself from throwing all those slurs around while confessing to the whole castle in what way you want to abuse your teacher!” Hermione hissed, having just about enough. It was one thing being frustrated about Bellatrix being at Hogwarts but another sitting there spewing hateful and misogynistic words.

“Granger, what the hell got your knickers in a twist, eh?” the one with the threat sniggered, “I’ve heard she tortured you as well, even more so in class.”

Madam Pince, who just emerged from behind one of the bookshelves, glared at the raised voices coming from their corner, “quiet, _please,_ ” she shushed. The boys all cowered under the librarian’s stare, even Hermione winced at the disapproving look; she was on good footing with Pince and did not want to end up on her bad side.

Hermione gathered her things into her bag before they would start again, not in the mood at all to bicker with anyone about Bellatrix and even less interested in defending the woman again. She gave Madam Pince a meek smile before hurrying out the library.

Her steps echoed through the corridor as she with determination stormed toward the former Death Eater’s quarters. She forced the adrenaline rush from before to return to prepare herself with enough authority as she could muster, imagining the anger flooding through her system again. Black would sense any insecurity, notice every croak and any quiver of her voice and use it against her. Even the slightest flicker in her eyes would be her weakness.

Two aurors were positioned outside the door to Black’s classroom, eyeing Hermione in bewilderment as she was headed in their direction.

“Miss…?” one of them, a man with black unruly hair, started but Hermione was quick to interrupt them.

“I need to speak to Madam Black.” Her voice was steady, her blood boiling again. The aurors looked at her curiously, glancing at the scroll she held tightly in her grip. 

The other auror, a tall woman with short brown hair and bright makeup, shrugged and gave her wand a slight flick. The door behind her creaked open and as soon as the empty, dark room was in Hermione’s view, she hesitated.

Suddenly it did not seem like a good idea to talk to the other woman when she did not have to. Giving Black more of her time than she needed was not something Hermione found particularly pleasant. However, Hermione did want to slam the parchment in front of Black’s face and make her admit that Hermione’s essay had exceeded her expectation. Hermione would not let Black break her score of perfect grades when she was so close to graduation.

Hermione swallowed, and entered the classroom with newly found motivation, and turned toward the living quarters of the office. Leanna Murk sat outside Black’s study in deep concentration as she was sharpening a knife. She was distracted at the sound of Hermione’s steps and looked up to meet her eyes. “Granger,” she nodded toward the door, indicating her to go ahead.

She knocked. The knock was louder than she intended, though the nervous knot in her stomach meant it was probably good. Be decisive. _She is just another teacher. Mad as a hatter, but just a teacher, nonetheless._

A haughty “What!?” came from the room.

“Professor Black, it’s me, Granger. I’ve finished that essay. I’m here to return it.” If one listened closely, one could hear a slight quiver in her voice, though luckily, it was not noticeable through the thick door.

It was quiet. Hermione almost believed her teacher would ignore her until the door opened slightly, revealing Bellatrix lying in a huge expensive looking sofa, with one leg hanging over the backrest and the other dangling over the edge barely reaching the floor. Her face was hidden among the pages of a thick book.

Hermione shifted awkwardly on her feet, not knowing how to approach Black since she did not acknowledge Hermione nor made an attempt to. Clearing her throat, Hermione took a step inside the study. Her eyes got caught on the exquisite art covering the walls of the round room; detailed landscapes exhibiting grassy fields moving in a wind; raging storms over open seas; northern lights dancing above mountains. What mesmerized her most was the bookcases lining the curvature of the walls above the art high up in the tower. This room did not belong to the idea of Bellatrix Black Lestrange.

“Cat got your tongue?” Hermione closed her mouth, blushing at being caught appreciating the beautiful interior. Bellatrix eyed her suspiciously over the book, raising an eyebrow as Hermione cleared her throat, again.

“Like I said, I’m here to return the essay.” With apprehensive steps, she walked up to Bellatrix who was still lazily sprawled all over her sofa. Hermione lifted the hand carrying the parchment, hoping Bellatrix would reach for it. The other woman slammed the book shut; gaze drilling into Hermione with eyes dark as the storms in the art above her. The look sent cold shivers down her spine and Hermione clung to the memory of the rage she had felt in the library. Her heart was thundering inside her chest, sweat already forming on her forehead and her hands felt clammy.

Despite Hermione’s advantage in height, Bellatrix towered over her as she was quick to her feet, forcing herself into Hermione’s personal space.

“So?” Black’s voice was laced with a combination of disdain, indifference and a lot of annoyance at being interrupted.

“So, I want you to read it now so we both can move on with our lives.” Hermione had mustered up enough courage to mirror a piece of the haughtiness Bellatrix held. The aurors were close. Black had no wand.

“It’s Saturday,” Bellatrix barked, “I’m not working.”

Hermione sighed in frustration, “You gave me until Monday to finish this parchment, if I have to work on weekends then so do you.” Hermione raised her chin in defiance, adrenaline back to do its glorious work of dulling the nerves and cover them with what was probably foolishness. Hermione did not care. She could get addicted to the feeling of boldness that rage seemed to provide her with. She probably had been already, although unknowingly during her entire time at Hogwarts.

“Silly girly, thinking she can stomp into my rooms on a bloody _Saturday_ and order me around like I was some dense house elf,” Bellatrix let out a dark chuckle, her grin full of rotten teeth gave her dark eyes that extra spark of being absolutely out of her mind. “I don’t give two shits about your essay today, _Granger._ I will read it whenever I want.”

Instead of feeling discouraged by Black’s bad temper, Hermione felt motivated to return the favour.

“And I don’t give three shits about your precious Saturday. You will read it now and you will enjoy it and I will be out of your hair when you’re done.” Hermione managed a sly smile, her whole body vibrating at the sense of claiming power. Demanding.

Bellatrix scoffed and stepped even closer to Hermione, coming face to face with her, “or else, muddy? You’ll hex me into the next millennium? ‘Cause that went so well yesterday.”

The air between them was electric, full of resentment and tension of unresolved issues and differences in, well, everything. A snarl adorned Black’s face, laced with disgust and superiority, of a belief of having the entire world beneath her. Hermione’s eyes captured dark eyes, held them there with no intent on letting them go, to make sure Bellatrix knew she would not cower ever again. The wordless communication between the two witches was sharp enough to slice through metal. It was a battle for power, dominance. Hermione trying to take control over her situation, Bellatrix desperately trying to keep it in her tight grip.

“Or else I’ll terrorise you _Every. Day._ Until you’ve read my essay. You’ll wish I hexed you into the next millennium.” Hermione hissed under her breath. She managed to sneak her wand from her sleeve and pushed it between the lacing of Black’s corset and into her sternum. She hoped her gaze would smoulder into the eyes of the other woman, that she could see the rage inside Hermione because she was sure the heat of it could set the entire room ablaze.

“Is everything alright here?” The deep voice of Ms Murk interrupted Black’s intense stare. Hermione knew the wand was hidden between them, the auror standing right behind her though her bravery faltered at the risk of being caught threating the dark witch. Hermione turned around quickly to give Leanna a faint smile, hoping she did not look as mad as she felt.

Bellatrix glanced at the wand, a nanosecond of fear flashed across her face before she took a step back with a smirk, “nothing, Ms Babysitter, everything is fine and dandy,” she reassured the auror with a silky voice, smiling sickly sweet as Leanna huffed and sat down again on her chair.

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to get this silly assignment out of our ways.” Black slipped the parchment from Hermione’s hand and glided away gracefully to sit behind her desk; a beautifully carved piece of furniture matching the dark walnut wood framing the sofa. The entire room reeked of wealth and for a second Hermione wondered if Black had gotten access to her vault at Gringotts before arriving at Hogwarts. 

Hermione quickly slid the wand back up her sleeve, relaxing muscles she had not known were tense with a silent exhale. She had not planned on using threats, knowing very well that the aurors would be allowed to use magic on her if Leanna had seen her wand; the protection from the aurors worked both ways. It had just felt so _good_ to prove to not only Black, but also herself that she too could play at this game or whatever it was.

“Sit, I won’t have you stand there staring at me while I’m working,” Bellatrix muttered with a nod towards the sofa. It felt weirdly normal to be offered– well, ordered a seat by the notorious Black in her own quarters.

Hermione placed herself on the furniture, surprised at how comfortable it was as she sunk down among dark green velvet cushions. Bellatrix was already immersed in the essay, quill ready in case she would need to leave marks somewhere. A clock on the wall showed it was way past lunchtime and Hermione realised she would have to sneak down to the kitchens and ask for some snacks. Her friends would wonder where she was; rumors had it they would spend the afternoon studying in the library where Hermione had promised them she would be the entire day and she did not know if she would be able to retell what the _fuck_ was happening here.

Again, her eyes fell on the artwork hanging on the walls. She wondered who the painter was; they all were in the same style and the brush strokes tattled they had been made by the same artist. If she squinted, she could nearly see the initials down in the right corner of the painting hanging next to her. Hermione did not dare to interrupt Bellatrix to ask her, now that she had managed to get her to read the damn parchment, afraid Bellatrix would change her mind.

It was unclear to Hermione why it was so important to her to get the essay corrected today. It was not like she had a rush or anything. Not really. It was just that she was so _tired_ of being some kind of puppet to Bellatrix. She needed to establish some kind of truce between them. Tolerance. Neither of them wanted to be in this situation but they had to go through the year.

Hermione studied Bellatrix, pondering on her theories from her journaling this morning. _How did you end up as the right hand of Lord Voldemort, his most loyal servant?_ Bellatrix’s face revealed nothing of her story, nor the regal aura radiating from her. Though the wiggling of the quill in her hand was a sign of bad patience, and restlessness. Boredom.

It really was of no use to try and understand Madam Black, there was no reason for it other than to quench the curiosity that Hermione did not want to admit was there. She would be the last one to confess that there were many similarities between the dark witch and Hermione, and thousands of other traits hidden under the surface of Black that poked at the younger witch’s interest.

Hermione had wondered many times why Bellatrix had singled her out, why she found great pleasure in making her life hell. What Hermione had not given any thought to at all up until this moment was why her own mind drifted away to mull over the fate of the dark witch; why she was so fixated on figuring Black out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your great comments and for leaving kudos! It's what keeps me writing. 
> 
> I have some favors to ask of you; I have trouble figuring this plot out. I'd really want to have a great plot other than their supposedly budding love. I'm struggling to come up with interesting side plots, I have some in mind but not really sure about them. I know that the redemption arch is a plot on its own but I don't know if you'd want anything more? Do you have things you want to read? If you wish to see more of some things then please let me know :) Thanks again!! I hope you're all dong okay in these times of chaos.


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